


Skynet: GV200

by grayorca, YearwalktheWorld



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Wings, Android Gavin Reed, Angst, Drama, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-02
Updated: 2019-04-02
Packaged: 2019-12-30 16:26:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18318986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grayorca/pseuds/grayorca, https://archiveofourown.org/users/YearwalktheWorld/pseuds/YearwalktheWorld
Summary: Wings AU. This cage ain’t big enough for the three of us.You know what that means....Jailbreak.





	Skynet: GV200

**Author's Note:**

> Yep. The spinoff of our _Skynet_ AU no one asked for. Irregular updates/plot expected, as we loosely weave it around the events of the game. Tags to be updated as we go.
> 
> ~~Don’t worry. No crossover elements here. Gag. :x~~
> 
> #whocares

In some regard, this was a complete waste of time. There was no sense posturing or bragging in front of an indifferent machine. None of his bluster would sink in. If anything, they would probably end this encounter on a decidedly-violent note. Someone might just cop a broken limb or a shattered optic or (minimum) a few ripped-out quills.

Thus far, though, the newer model was matching him blow for blow, kick for kick. And to its advantage, it wasn’t wasting its unnecessary breath on jeering. It’s processor was only dedicated to the struggle at hand. To it, this probably was no grand test.

And said fight was a while in the making, so why not provide some commentary?

“Fuck you! You think you're so fuckin’ - _advanced_ , and special, and - ” Breaking his concentration on ranting for a moment, Gavin narrowly avoided being decked by the other android, managing to throw himself to the side instead. “You can just come and _replace_ us? Replace me? Shitty fuckin’ thinkin’!”

Unmoved (as ever), the newer model only pivoted around to drive a kick into his midsection. It didn’t hurt, besides the flurry of error messages that cropped up saying he was, but it effectively drove the wind out of his synthetic lungs for a few torturous seconds.

“For the fourth - time, I advise that you stop before we - _phew_ \- do any more damage.” Spitting to clear the blue blood from its lip, the white-jacketed prototype even managed to not dribble any thirium md-fight. It was ridiculous in and of itself. Yes, the RK900 was a preprogrammed neat-freak, but to be that unscuffed - that fucker would bleed and be _stained_ by it before this hour was up. “You know Captain Fowler will not approve of your behavior.” 

No shit, Sherlock. 

“ _Phuck yhou,_ f-fuck you!” Gavin gasped out, trying to get more air he didn't need into his body, before lunging at the prototype again, swinging for its head, only to be forced to pivot around when it moved out of the way. Goddammit, he knew this was probably going to be a lost cause, ending with him in a heap on the ground, but if he could just fucking hit the thing a couple times, it would be worth it.  

“I don't give a shit what the fuckin’ Captain would think! You're so - fuckin’ - aggravatin’, thinking you can come in and just take _my_ job, that there's nothin’ to it, think you can just kick me to the side -”

If it and the other prototype thought they were going to get some pliant, broken-in android, willing to teach them what it knew and then passively let itself be decommissioned, they were dead fucking wrong. Gavin would fight tooth and nail the whole time if he had to, just to let that sink in.

A flicker of something that (in a feeling being) might have been aggravation crossed the newer model’s facade. Without so much as a blink, it leaned out of harm’s way, grabbed the fist that almost sailed into its eye, and twisted it aside. Those fine-tuned reaction times were keeping this from being a fair fight.

But still, if the RK900 (with its sharp, scrawny tern wings; they weren’t even standard raptor class) thought it necessary, it could incapacitate and obliterate him without hardly trying. Thus far, besides a few retaliations, it hadn’t.

What was up with that? 

“You’re being emotional, Detective.”

Yeah? And what, since when was he not?

“Oh, yeah? No shit!” Instead of trying to get the grip off of himself, Gavin moved with it, using his other fist to try and clock against the side of the android's head, best he could. One foot skittered up, the height difference leaving him almost hopping with his attempt at a blow. “And you're bein’ a _pain_ in the fuckin’ ass! I - I fuckin’ _hate_ you, stop it!”

Stop what, he wasn't exactly sure - stop grabbing him, not letting him fight back? Stop handling him like this, and actually fight him? Stop getting close to Hank the way he had once been? Stop trying to take his job, which would just lead to him being decommissioned?

Probably all that, and more, when it came to the two fuckers. There was supposedly nothing he could do that they couldn’t do five times better. Because multipliers on a spreadsheet somewhere had them thinking they were superior. They may have stepped off the assembly station only a shy few months ago, but that didn’t mean they were _better._

Simulations didn’t add up to experience with the real world. The latter and CyberLife Tower were two completely different things.

Not that the RKs were interested in hearing it. 

Just as it caught the punch, the RK900 snagged his leg, just under the knee, stepped back, and pulled up in one calculated motion. Flipping it’s opponent end-over-end, as if he weighed nothing, the deflection ended with him laid out on the ground, a shoe driven in between his shoulders.

Directly on top of the inbuilt pressure-plate that rendered his eagle wings useless.

Crap. That wasn’t meant to happen.

“I believe you threw the first blow.”

Struggling against the weight in between his shoulders, Gavin tried in vain to raise himself onto his elbows, glaring back at the RK900 with something like a snarl. Almost immediately, there was a hand splayed over the side of his face, pinning him to the ground in full. 

Who cared anymore, at this point? Not that he was giving up, but even he knew when the odds were stacked too far one way to come back without help. His wings beat once, almost pathetically, before coming to a stop.

The once-picturesque gold-brown feathers were now anything but. 

“Fuckin’ right, I did, and you - deserved it! Get the fuck off of me, asshole!”

“Will you agree to stand down if I do, so that we might talk about this, intelligently?” 

Now there was an underhanded jab, in more ways than one. Always aiming for the most efficient solution, of course the RK would default to that. It had better control of itself than exception-to-the-rule the outdated GV200 ever did nowadays. 

Was it expecting to be envied or something?

Unable to fully turn his head, arms and hands caught beneath his own limp wings, Reed could only sigh in aggravation. A puff of dust went airborne before his mouth, disheveled bangs fluttering to match.

Underneath the RK900’s hand, his once-red LED dialed back to orange. It was as close to yellow as he could presently get. But he was trying. 

Never let it be said, in those five years before now, he hadn’t developed a temper.

But he wasn’t without reason. Perhaps there was a way to yet spin this to his advantage. He did have more practice at real-time negotiation than either RK, combined.

“That depends, jackass. …What’s there to talk about?”


End file.
